One More Kiss
by Naeryn
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Ami and Makoto gave love a try, and things fell apart. Now both of their lives are incredibly different, but their feelings aren't. Can they figure things out? Ami x Makoto Shoujoai.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Thanks so much for reminding me! I'm going to go cry now, because the gorgeous, short-skirted fourteen year olds do not belong to me. ;;.

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Prologue

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"I'm sorry, Mako-chan. I just… I can't." Ami shook her head, backing away from the green-eyed girl in front of her. "It's too much. It's just too much, too many…"

Makoto placed one finger over Ami's lips, forcing her words into an incoherent stream of sound. The rain started pouring. "Ami, don't. Just don't. You've spent your whole life going against the grain. But this, _this_ is too much? Something that feels so right?" Dropping her hand, Makoto sighed. "Here's your umbrella back."

Handing the umbrella to Ami, Makoto leaned forward and kissed her, softly, sweetly. One hand slid up Ami's neck to tangle in her wet locks momentarily before Makoto pulled away. "I'm sorry that you're so scared to follow your heart, Ami. You can't keep running from yourself forever."

Without waiting for another word, Ami watched her best friend and short time lover stride quickly away, rain pouring down. "Mako-chan… I love you." She whispered, falling to her knees on the wet pavement. "I'm sorry, Mako-chan. I'm sorry." She turned and ran, the umbrella forgotten on the ground.

Ami sat at her computer. It was top of the line with all the latest technology. Not quite of course, it was two months old and something new must have come out since then. Not that it mattered, particularly. She used it for journaling, chatting, whiling away her hours.

She cast a glance around her home. The pictures on the wall showed a smiling, happy family, unconventional though it was: Ami, arms tightly around her young daughter. The girl lay sleeping in the second bedroom.

She had a beautiful little girl, a good home with a comfortable bed and the best job she could have hoped for.

Yet, she would trade it all for one more kiss in the rain.

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Yes, this is a prologue. Yes, it is painfully short. Yes, I'm about to post chapter one. 


	2. Surprises

**Disclaimer**: disclaimed. Me no own. You no sue. Comprende?

**Author's Note**: Angst warning. Lesbian lovin' warning. There, you can't complain now. Ha.

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Chapter One

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Makoto sighed, brushing her hands on the apron covering her knee-length, deep green skirt, and spring green blouse. The restaurant had just closed, and she was grateful. She loved her job, running her restaurant, but this day was always difficult, particularly when she couldn't hide from the world, but rather had to force herself to be a part of it.

Since that day, fifteen years earlier, when her hopes had been dashed, Makoto had thrown herself into her studies. From the ages of fifteen to eighteen, she'd taken every cooking class she could manage, and then had worked in every restaurant she could. At twenty three, seven years previous, she'd opened up her own restaurant, titled _Mako's_. An unoriginal name, perhaps, but it served its purpose. It gave the impression of a small, friendly diner-type place, which was precisely what she wanted.

Normally, she loved the time she spent in her restaurant. She didn't have a huge clientele, but it was a warm and friendly environment, mostly filled with college students she could call by name, and all of whom could order simply "the regular", and she knew precisely what they wanted. She loved the atmosphere she'd created in the place she happily dubbed her 'second home', and she considered all of her staff friends.

On this day, she would have liked nothing more than to hide in her bed, away from 'friends' who didn't entirely understand her or her colourful history, who didn't comprehend why she was still single, even though she'd had plenty of offers of courtship and more from gentlemen and ladies alike.

Fifteen years had done nothing to dull the pain of Ami's rejection, and their anniversary was just about too much to bear, even still. She hadn't spoken to anyone from her early youth since that day, ensuring that the likelihood of them finding out who she was, or where she lived or worked, was small. She pulled off the flour-dusty apron, dropping it on the counter. She should brush it off and hang it, at least, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The place was clean enough anyway, she could wipe off the counter and simply wear a different apron in the morning.

Makoto strode out of the kitchen, looking forwards to going home and relaxing in the bath, losing herself in one of her cheesy romance novels. She stopped short when she saw a head sticking above one of the partitions between tables. She couldn't make out who it was; the figure was in shadow. She coughed twice. "Excuse me, but we're closed now."

No response. Walking closer, Makoto sighed resignedly. It couldn't be one of her regular patrons; they all knew better than to stick around on this day. She'd told no one about it, but everyone could sense her dark mood, and had picked up on its annual occurrence. She could make out the top of a small pile of blue hair that decorated a bent head, pulled down into a short, low ponytail. "Miss? I'm sorry, but…" Makoto trailed off as the young woman looked up. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a gasp. She stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over another table in her shock. "Ami?"

A faint, unhappy smile flickered over Ami's face before she looked down again. "Hello, Makoto-san." She lifted her face, forcing a genial smile to her lips. "It's been awhile."

"How did you find me? Do the others know? Why are you here? Why now? Why did you wait so long? What's going on?" Makoto's confusion poured out in a rush of words. She needed to ask these questions; they were flooding her throat in such a way that she was certain that if she didn't spit them out, she would drown in her confusion and the suddenly overwhelming sense of loss that engulfed her.

In some small part of her mind, she noticed differences in Ami. Her breasts were fuller, hips broader. Stomach not so flat as it was. Children? Makoto frowned. There was an air of sadness, bordering on despair around the woman. She'd grown her hair out a little, probably for the convenience of being able to tie it back. Ami had gained a couple of inches of height, but so had Makoto, so the difference between them remained more or less the same.

"You can't hide from me, Makoto." Ami's voice lighted on the young woman's ear, reassuring and terrifying at the same time. "You have to know that. I gave you the space you desired after you disappeared that day. Eventually, the pain of losing even your friendship began to dull. Or, I thought it did." She shook her head, it wasn't time for that. "I found you online. You never bothered with procedures to change your name; it wasn't difficult. As for the rest… I suppose I'll have to tell you in good time."

Makoto fell. Slowly, she dropped until her knees rested on the floor and she leaned back against a booth, staring up at the love of her life in utter shock. "How can you do this to me?"

Ami frowned. "Are you happy with your life right now? If you are, tell me so. I will leave. You will never hear from me again." She shook her head. "But if you are not… at least, go out for coffee with me?"

A tremble coloured Makoto's voice. She nodded. "I – I will. I have to work tomorrow, but I can…" she cleared her throat, trying to stifle the waver in her throat and the shaking of her limbs. "I can leave early. Around three?"

Nodding sharply, Ami stood. "I will meet you here? We…" she sighed. "We have a lot to talk about, Makoto-san. But it's best not to get into that now; I know that seeing me again must be hard for you. As hard as it was for me to come here." Turning on her heel, she walked to the exit. "I'm proud of you, Makoto-san. You've done very well for yourself with this. That may not mean much to you, but… I had to tell you."

And she left, leaving a shocked Makoto staring, dumbstruck, at the door, the sound of the little crystal bell ringing in her ears for minutes after the chime ceased.

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Review? Please? You'll make my day. Constructive criticism will make my week. 3 


	3. I Feel Sorry For the Coffee

**I don't own Sailor Moon.** You can't honestly say you didn't know that. I'm pretty sure Takeuchi Naoko-sensei does too. .

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Nervously, Makoto ran her hands through her hair, the brown locks hanging from a half-ponytail in gentle curls. It was 2:45 in the afternoon, and she'd just finished her pre-close, trusting her two staff members to handle the rest of the day. Of course, she'd wind up coming in at least an hour early tomorrow, but she knew despite that they could handle the job.

So she sat, clad in a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans and a red, collared, button-down halter top, in a booth near the back of her little restaurant, waiting for Ami's arrival. She'd actually worn quite a bit of makeup on this day, in an attempt to hide the bags under her eyes: proof of her wakeful previous night, spent tossing and turning in a bed she was suddenly critically aware was too large for one person, thinking, wondering, about Ami's sudden presence.

The door chimed. Makoto's gaze shot up and, again, she gasped upon seeing Ami. The woman wore a mid-thigh length crimson skirt. A white blouse wrapped around her torso, decorated with green vines and red roses that reminded Makoto of the rose earrings she'd worn for years and ditched not quite four years ago. That was the year she'd decided that any reminder of her youth was entirely undesirable.

Ami, apparently, knew precisely where Makoto would be sitting, for she didn't take the time to look for her, but made a beeline for her table. Makoto watched her approach, filled with apprehension.

"Hello, Makoto-san." Ami had reached the table and was smiling at her. Her smile was empty, devoid of any warmth or real emotion. It didn't reach her eyes, which were filled with the same depression she'd seen last night.

Standing, Makoto brushed off her jeans and returned the greeting. "Hello, Ami-san. Where are we going?"

"There's a nice little coffee shop down the street. Do you have much time, or do you have to be back here soon? I just…" Ami sighed dejectedly, looking for half a second like her fifteen-year-old self, the one that Makoto had fallen in love with all those years ago. "I have quite a bit to tell you."

Makoto shook her head. "I don't have to be back here today."

An uneasy silence grew. Ami felt like she was playing hot potato; passing something back and forth, waiting for it to explode. She forced a smile. "Shall we go then? I…" she cut herself off. Curious but unwilling to ask, Makoto merely nodded and stood, prepared to follow Ami out of the restaurant.

They walked in a silence which was at first strained but grew to be comfortable. Neither woman looked at the other directly, but both were so engrossed in looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes that neither noticed the other doing the same thing.

As the shop came into view, both women sighed in relief, shattering the concentrated tension that had enveloped them. Seating herself to the chime of a small bell that hung over the door, Makoto looked around, taking in the environment of the place. It wasn't large, but neither was it particularly small. The lower half of the walls was all blue, the top moving up and down in waves as it met the green upper half. All the tables were round, Makoto noted, wondering at the absence of booths. All black marble, too, or at least a good imitation. She rapped her fingernails on the table as she waited for Ami to return.

She couldn't help but wonder if she remembered what Makoto drank. It hadn't changed in fifteen years.

Ami strode up, a faint pink tinge in her cheeks. "I got you a mocha, no whipped cream. I'm not sure if that's still what you drink, but…" She smiled, waving her now free hand in the air as Makoto took the drink. She seemed about to say something, and then thought better of it, taking her seat on the stool across the little table from Makoto.

Again with the uncomfortable silence. Makoto slid one hand up her sleeve, running her finger along the skin of her wrist, feeling the texture. Noticing what she did, she pulled her hand away, almost too quickly. "So. Ami-san. What did you want to talk about?" Her voice was colder than she intended. Makoto almost winced, but forced herself to be still. Why should she make the effort to spare the feelings of this girl, who shattered her so long ago?

Sighing softly, Ami murmured, "Right into it, hmm?" She folded her hands in her lap, bracing herself. "I have… a lot to tell you, Makoto-san. I want… I want you to let me say everything, before you speak. I know I have no right to ask you for anything…"

"Too right, you don't."

She ignored that. "But I must ask for this one thing. Please, just don't say anything until I'm done. If you do… I won't be able to tell you what I need to." She looked up, and Makoto was shocked by the pleading in her sapphire eyes. She nodded, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat.

With a resigned grimace, Ami began. "After you left, everyone hurt. Nothing was ever easy, but that made it so much harder. Somehow, too, it made something easier, for me. With you gone, I could pretend that everything I'd ever felt for you was fake. I could tell myself that it wasn't true." She looked up, closing her eyes. "I didn't meet him until my last year of high school." Ami gave a bitter laugh. "Looking back now, it shocks me how like you he really was. He had scruffy brown hair, and the most intense emerald green eyes. I've only ever seen one other set that compare."

Makoto blanched. Was Ami talking about her?

"I broke up with him, too. I did that many times. Found some nice guy, usually with brown hair, or green eyes, or some martial artist," she gave a bitter laugh. "Until I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I didn't even learn his name first. A year later, I gave birth to a beautiful little girl, brown haired and blue eyed." She smiled with true warmth then, thinking of her daughter. Makoto could see, from her posture, the sparkle in her eyes that took Makoto's breath away, that she truly loved her daughter. Makoto closed her eyes. Why was Ami telling her this?

A sadness took over, darkening Ami's eyes and causing her shoulders to slump forwards. "She's a beautiful little girl. Just a year old." Ami shook her head. "What I'd been running from for fourteen years caught up to me. After… after making so many mistakes, I realized what I was doing wrong." She smiled softly. "Men." She looked up at Makoto. "You were right, Makoto-san. I couldn't keep running."

Silence grew. What on earth did Ami mean? Makoto fingered the plastic lid on her coffee cup, the liquid inside now cold. Could she mean that…? Makoto didn't dare to hope. Part of her was even angry; did she expect Makoto to suddenly make herself available, when it had been Ami herself who'd walked out on her – on them – fifteen years ago? Ami coughed, pulling Makoto out of her reverie. "What have you been doing?"

"Well, you know about my restaurant." Makoto smiled. Her one big achievement, and probably the only reason she was still around. She immersed herself in work to pretend that there was nothing wrong with her life. She knew it was escapism, but she didn't particularly care. "That's really about it. I'm not going to tell you what I went through after I left." Makoto shook her head. "You don't need to know, and I don't need to relive it. Suffice it to say, it wasn't good. I transferred schools again. I threw myself into my studies. After I graduated, I went to university. Opened my own restaurant almost right away." She smiled, pride evident in her eyes. "The first year or two was really rough. But those few college students kept us afloat, if barely, and now we're doing wonderfully." Makoto shrugged. "That's about it, really."

The silence consumed them again.

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Questions? Comments? Reviews, pretty please:P


	4. The Coffee Feels Sorry for the Shower

Does anyone actually read these disclaimers? I mean, really. I could ramble on here about what kind of underwear I'm wearing, and I'll bet no one would notice. However, just to be safe, Takeuchi Naoko owns Sailor Moon. At least, I'm pretty sure she does - I mean, I"ve never seen the papers or anything, but that simple fact alone should allow anyone to believe and accept that I do not own Sailor Moon, even if it turns out that Naoko-sensei doesn't.

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Chapter Three

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Makoto lay, spread-eagled, on her bed. One green-shammed pillow lay over her face, the other in its place on the bed she'd already acknowledged was really too big for one person, and she wished would just shut up about it. She sighed. Makoto hadn't thought she'd find a day more stressful than that one, rainy day fifteen years ago. Apparently she'd been quite wrong.

At that damned coffee shop, fifteen minutes after they'd stopped talking, Ami had murmured something about needing to get home to relieve the babysitter, and run off.

Flipping the pillow off her head, Makoto lifted the paper clutched in her hand. It was a business card. Mizuno Ami, OB/GYN. She was quite sure that it had been no mistake on Ami's part, leaving that card on the table. It included not only her office number, but the number for her cell phone as well.

The message was very clear. The ball was in Makoto's court.

Ami had a child? With some unnamed guy, who sounded stunningly like a male version of herself, at least in appearance. Makoto blew upwards, puffing her bangs out of her face. Stubbornly, they landed themselves squarely back in her eyes. "Damn things…" she muttered to no one in particular.

Would Ami tell the others where she was? The last thing Minako needed was a jubilant Minako and a tearful Usagi appearing on her doorstep, in hysterics about Makoto's disappearance. She could just picture it. One odangoed blonde grabbing her and sobbing into her shoulder, the other, red-bowed, alternating between joy and despair, bouncing around and going on about how much they were going to do together.

Even worse would be facing Rei. Makoto knew that the miko wouldn't be angry. No, she would be hurt, hurt that Makoto disappeared, hurt that Ami had had to use search engines and hack government directories to find her. Makoto didn't know what she would do, how much of her walls would shatter, under Rei's quiet, pained understanding. Seeing Ami was hard enough, but, unexpected as it was, Makoto at least had worked enough to dull her feelings that, no matter how close she'd come, she hadn't broken down.

Ami had a child. Somehow, Makoto's thoughts came back to that defining point, no matter how long she lay there. A little girl with brown hair and green eyes. One year old; Ami had been doing that to herself for so long. Makoto wondered what her name was. Makoto had always wanted children, but until recently, had never thought that she had the security, financially or otherwise, to be able to properly raise one.

And of course, by then, it was too late. Tears welled in Makoto's eyes, dulling them into a bland gray-green. She was strong, yes, but there was only so much that any girl could do against ten thugs. Especially when they were intent on one thing. She shook her head. She'd been lucky enough to escape with no STIs, without AIDs, and no injury save some nasty bruises on her thighs, a couple of shallow cuts, and a black eye.

But she'd never be able to have children.

Makoto rolled onto her side, stuffing the pillow into her stomach. She never did enjoy thinking about the incident – who would? – and it left an aching sort of emptiness in her gut. An awareness of just another thing that made her less than feminine. Less than a woman. It didn't help that, about two years ago, she'd started having what had popularly been dubbed 'baby cravings'.

Closing her eyes, Makoto willed sleep to come to her. As she lay there, she found herself becoming conscious of irritants. Her back started to itch. The clock ticked, just slightly, every second. There was a faint drip coming from the bathroom, no doubt from her earlier shower. Her eyes flipped open again, rolling up to peer at her bookshelf headboard through her bangs.

One hand reached up, fumbled around, and grabbed hold of her telephone. Taking another look at the card she hadn't even realized she still clutched in her hand, Makoto dialed Ami's number.

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Ami stood in the shower, the water cascading over her almost scalding. Her hands were braced against the wall beneath the showerhead as she tried to force her knees to hold her weight. After coming home and relieving Rei of her babysitting duties, Ami had put her daughter down for what would probably wind up being most but not all of the night. She still had a tendency to wake early, crying to be nursed.

Now she stood in the shower, on the verge of collapse. The previous day had been hard enough, and she'd only seen Makoto for a few minutes. Ami found herself racked with guilt. What was she doing? Makoto had obviously found some small piece of happiness, and perhaps had been able to forget Ami. What gave her the right to bring back that pain?

She sighed, her knees giving out. Ami fell hard on the porcelain, bruising one knee. Her head dropped, hands forming into claws to grip at the smooth tiled walls of her western-style shower. The water pounded heavily against her head. Biting her lip, Ami tried to keep the tears she'd felt welling up in her eyes for the past half hour from squeezing themselves out. She failed. One hand balled into a fist, pulled back, and made a solid connection with the porcelain tub she knelt in.

What had happened to Makoto over those years? Ami shook her head. She'd hurt the woman, she knew, but there was more to it there. Perhaps they hadn't seen each other in a long time, but some things never changed, and Ami found herself just as able to read the emotion in Makoto's electric green eyes as she ever was. There was old pain there, but it was more than Ami's fear could have done.

And somehow, Ami knew, she was responsible. Well, it was up to Makoto if she wanted to see Ami again. Nails ran along her arm, raising red welts. She wouldn't push herself on the woman. Ami's hands flexed, her fingers twisting around themselves.

Her hair hung in front of her face, long bangs trailing water. With a crushing sob, she let her tears flow into the water tracing over her features. She cursed herself for her foolishness. Would Makoto run away again? Ami was certain that if she did, she wouldn't be able to find her again. How could she tell Makoto what she wanted? That she'd always regretted not having that strength? And how could she ever expect Makoto to want her again, after what she'd done? She lifted her head sharply, flinging her hair back, and turned off the shower.

Moments passed as she knelt in the tub, not quite certain how to move. Shakily, Ami stood, brushing her hair back, and reached for her robe. I've struggled so long to get away from that, she thought, and I will not go back. Fingers smoothed over the already fading lines on her arm.

A bitter sigh escaped Ami's lips as she made her way into her bedroom, repeating itself as she fell onto her bed. Reaching under her pillow, she groped around for a bit before her fingers came in contact with a piece of rumpled cotton. She pulled out the shirt and shook it out. It seemed to be made entirely of wrinkles, and the symbol across the front – the Nike checkmark – was faded and peeled almost entirely off. Still, she clutched the shirt to her, inhaling the smell of fabric softener. Perhaps it no longer held the scent of its former owner, but Ami could pretend.

She'd gotten good at pretending.

The cell phone on her bedside table started to jump around, the vibrate function going crazy. A dozen thoughts ran through her head. Who was calling? She glanced at the clock, frowning at the flashing red '10:53'. It was almost eleven; if there were a problem at the hospital, who would she find to babysit? She could call Rei again, but she'd done that so often – the girl needed to sleep, too.

With a resigned sigh, she picked up the phone and looked at the number. It wasn't one she recognized. Confused, she flipped it open and held the thing to her ear. "Moshi moshi, Mizuno here…" Her eyes widened in shock when she heard the voice on the other end.


	5. Looking Forward

Blah, blah, blah, Sailor Moon isn't mine. I've got to wonder though, would it be possible for me to be sued over it? I mean, I've never given out my real address information or name over the internet, so... how would they know it was me?

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"Wait… what do you mean, Ami's sliding again?" Worry tinged the blonde's voice.

A tired sigh escaped Rei's lips. "Minako-chan, you know what I mean. You know what she put herself through after Mako-chan left. You know what she did." Rei shook her head sadly. "I think… I think she saw Mako-chan. You know she was trying to find her."

Minako's eyes widened in something not quite, but near to fear. "If Mako-chan hurt her…"

A hand, held before her eyes, forestalled whatever threats Minako was going to utter. "We can't blame Mako-chan, Minako-chan. Ami-chan hurt her, a lot. We all know that. She can't have known what Ami-chan went through, and probably still doesn't. The same way we don't know what happened to Mako-chan after she left."

"Aargh!" Minako cried in frustration. "I hate being so useless!"

Rei's arms slipped around the blonde's smaller figure. "I know, koibito." Minako sighed, resting her head on Rei's shoulder. Rather than continuing to fret, she allowed herself to be comforted by the feel of her lover's fingers running through her hair and the gentle tones of the words Rei murmured into her ear.

Wrapping her fingers around Rei's, she led her to the bed and sat down, pulling the miko with her. "I just worry about them. Both of them. I mean, we know what Ami went through, which is hard enough, but we don't even know what happened to Mako-chan. We don't know if she's scarred, or broken…" Minako shook her head. "I just want everyone to be happy. Is that so impossible?"

Rei smiled softly, kissing her nearly distraught lover gently. "Never underestimate the impossible."

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Makoto sighed, trying for the sixth time to place the garnish just so. Perhaps her restaurant was little more than a nice café, but she was ever the perfectionist. Unfortunately, her distractedness was interfering. It was a week since she'd had coffee with Ami, and talked with her on the phone until the wee hours of the morning.

Her daughter's name was Amako. The woman seemed to never tire of talking about her. Amako's first steps, one month ago; Amako's love of pots and pans, which aggravated Ami's migraines but was too cute to stop her from doing anyway.

As such, even talking for several hours, they hadn't managed to discuss anything of significance. At least, not significance to their relationship, whatever exactly that relationship was.

This, of course, was the root cause of Makoto's distraction. What was their relationship? Were they friends? Somehow, Makoto couldn't imagine Ami calling her "Mako-chan" again. She didn't know this cool, reserved doctor. She only seemed to drop her walls when she was talking about Amako.

How could Makoto tell Ami that she loved her still? More importantly, would that be the best course of action for either of them? And, of course, there was the ever-present question; did Makoto love Ami, or the thought of Ami – the girl she'd known in junior high, and visions of her that were, perhaps, exaggerated by pain and distance?

Shaking her head, she tried to place the garnish once more. It was too much to think about, and she didn't want to worry about it. Makoto never expected Ami to walk through the door of her small, unassuming little restaurant, and now how was she supposed to deal with it?

Makoto swallowed convulsively, trying to down the bitter resentment that piled up in her throat and threatened to spill over. Ami had a kid, and Makoto was doomed to childlessness. Ami had a house, and Makoto, while by no means poor, was living in a small one-bedroom apartment. Ami was a near-famous doctor, and Makoto had a tiny little restaurant.

Her fist impacted against the countertop. With a frustrated sigh, she flipped her hand through her hair, pulling off her hairnet, and tore the apron off of her. She tossed it on the counter, calling, "I'll be back in tomorrow!" at her most recent acquisition of a souse chef.

The chef, a young man by the name of Koriko Yuki, sighed, shaking his head. His boss was a really sweet lady, but she really needed to lighten up sometimes. He turned his attention back to the carrot he was chopping, knowing she would, in fact, be back in tomorrow.

* * *

Her body folded, settling itself into the confines of the metal-and-vinyl chair. Ami sat there, stood and paced, and sat again. She'd been doing this for the past hour, trying to keep her attention on the comatose patient, but finding herself unable to. She did need to focus, as certain changes on the patient's monitors indicated he would wake soon. Ami fervently hoped that the patient would not suffer extensive brain damage. He'd been in the comatose state for about two weeks, and some minor damage was to be expected.

With a little luck, though, he'd have all his gross motor skills, most of his fine motor skills, and relatively minimal memory issues.

Ami glanced at her watch and sighed. Only fifteen more minutes on her shift. She wondered if she should have told Makoto the truth. She closed her eyes, letting her mind recall their strange phone conversation.

_"Amako? You called her Amako? Why?"_

_"I just thought it was a pretty name, that's all."_

Should she have told Makoto the real reason behind her daughter's name? Her desperate wish that somehow the child didn't belong to some nameless face, but to Makoto, her childhood sweetheart? The one she'd so foolishly run away from? Ami lifted herself out of the chair, pacing back and forth at the foot of the young man's bed again. What was she supposed to do now? She'd imagined every scenario she could think of, but Ami had never prepared for Makoto to actually be willing to listen to her. Willing to talk.

She found herself adrift, lost in a sea of confusion, and she found herself unsure. Should she come out and say it? Some part of her longed to, and she hoped Makoto would accept it, even if she wouldn't return her love. But the chances of that were slim, she knew. Ami sighed tiredly.

There really only was one choice. She had to tell her. What else could she do? Ami smiled, her mother's last words as the cancer took her drifting through her mind. She murmured them quietly to herself, into her chest as if speaking them directly to her heart. She nodded, checking her watch again, and settled back into the chair. She'd gotten little else out of Makoto during their five hour phone conversation, but she'd at least gotten the woman's address.

Tonight. There was nothing for it. If she waited, she'd lose her nerve.

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So? Reviews please? I only got a couple of them on the last chapter, and this makes Naeryn sad. I live for feedback!


	6. Revelations

Major Angst Warning! Wah! Oh, yeah. Sailor Moon isn't mine, and no amount of wishing will change that. Dammit.

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A sharp knock on the door brought Makoto up. She blinked thrice, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She hadn't realized she'd drifted off on the couch. Casting a glance at the television set, she sighed, wondering if she'd ever get to watch the end of Howl's Moving Castle.

Another knock sounded, reminding Makoto why she was awake. Running one hand through her hair to straighten it as best she could, she made for the door. She almost fell over when she saw who was on the other side, eyes bright with an eager smile. Makoto would have sworn she'd stepped back fifteen years, and had the young genius on her doorstep back in Minato-ku, waiting for a sweet kiss and a night of watching movies – the first time, in fact, that Makoto had attempted and failed to sit through all of that damned anime.

"A-Ami-san." She shook her head, pulling herself out of the depths of memory. Ami sighed, watching the walls behind her eyes, gone for half a second, shoot back up, clouding the crystalline green of Makoto's eyes.

Ami bowed her greeting. "May I come in for a moment, Makoto-san?"

Setting her jaw, Makoto nodded and stepped aside, no longer meeting Ami's eyes. "Of course, Ami-san." She closed the door behind them and turned around, leaning against the solid wood. What on earth was Ami doing at her apartment at – she checked the clock above the kitchen doorway quickly – nine forty five at night?

"Forgive me, Makoto-san, but I just got off work. I needed to speak with you." Ami tilted her head. Makoto seemed irritated. Well, Ami couldn't fault her for that. She also looked nervous, unsure. She smiled a little, relieved. Apparently Makoto was still trying for stoicism, but it eased Ami's mind to know that she hadn't quite achieved it in its entirety yet. Made the woman seem somehow more human.

Makoto snapped back to attention. "Yes, Ami-san? What is it?"

"Can we sit down?"

Makoto sighed, nodding her head slowly. Whatever this was, she was certain she wasn't going to like it. Ami sat in the middle of the couch. Makoto leaned against the arm, not quite sitting and ready to jump away at any second. Ami frowned.

Silence. A tense, pensive waiting that was becoming all too familiar to the women. Ami's fingers played with each other in her lap as she thought, her powerful mind seeking desperately to string words together into a coherent sentence that would somehow make everything better between them. She shook her head imperceptibly; there was no way to make everything better with only a few words. Too much time had passed, to much pain, on both sides.

For her part, Makoto was distracting herself from the growing tension with the sensation of her teeth digging into her lower lip. When was Ami going to speak? Part of her wanted to throw herself on the other woman, begging Ami to love her, to want her. That, however, would probably not go over well. At the same time, before Makoto could allow herself to consider forgiving, forgetting, moving on, she needed something from Ami. It didn't help, of course, that she didn't know what that was.

"Makoto-san." Ami's voice sounded loud as it shattered the hush. Makoto refocused again. "I need to tell you… the real reason for all of this. Why I named my daughter Amako. Why I came to find you…" She trailed off, clenching her fingers together in her lap. Biting her lip, Ami reached up and scratched at the back of her neck, fighting the growing tension.

She reached out to lay her hand on Makoto's arm, but pulled her hand away when Makoto tensed. Gently, sadly, she returned her hand to her lap, pulling her eyes towards the floor. "Makoto-san… I know that I hurt you. I know you don't trust me, and I really, really don't blame you for that." She shook her head. "But you hurt me, too. When I told you I couldn't handle it, I didn't mean for you to run from me. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I had hoped that you would, perhaps, be willing to wait for me to be ready." She sighed tiredly. "I suppose it was selfish of me to expect that, but I didn't realize. I may have been a smarter than average girl, but I was still just a girl."

Twin shaking, pale hands gripped into the couch cushions as Makoto looked on in shock. "It wasn't that night, but the night after. When you weren't at school the next day. I went over to your apartment. It was empty, save a single potted plant and this." She reached into her jean pocket and pulled out a rumpled, faded piece of paper.

Ami held it up between two fingers, unable to reach Makoto's eyes. "You said you couldn't handle seeing me every day, and knowing you couldn't be with me. So you left. You didn't say where you went, if you were okay, or if you would ever come back. So I went home, and I cried. And I went into the bath, and made it as hot as I could possibly stand."

She gave a bitter, tired laugh. "I should have known better than to try and kill myself when my doctor mother was home." The note slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the ground. Ami joined it, falling to her knees on the smooth hardwood floor. Her fingernails clawed at the wood.

Makoto didn't recognize the sound at first. It had been some time since she'd heard anyone cry that hard. Her head spun. Ami, sweet, innocent little Ami, had hurt that much? Makoto bit her lip, fighting to keep herself from breaking down beside her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she slipped from the arm of the couch onto a cushion. "Ami…"

"I didn't succeed, obviously. My mother found me, took me to the hospital. She wasn't the one who stitched my arms, though." She smiled wearily. "She couldn't. After that, we had a long talk. I didn't go to school for about a week. She decided that I was far enough ahead in my studies that a week wouldn't matter, and I didn't need to give the other students another reason to dislike me." Her eyes lifted, finding something interesting to stare at in the ceiling. "But I learned something that night."

Now she looked over at Makoto, catching her eye. "Sometimes, pain helps."

The silence grew and swelled between them. What on earth could Ami mean by that? How could pain help anything? Makoto understood the satisfaction of a good workout, including the sore and aching muscles after, but somehow she didn't think that was what Ami meant.

Quietly, Ami waited, looking on, wondering when the pieces would connect. Was it something Makoto had heard of before? Perhaps not, Ami was the only person, as far as she knew, that Makoto knew and had followed that path. Finally, she saw understanding dawn in her eyes, and some feeling that she couldn't identify.

"You… you hurt yourself, didn't you?"

Ami nodded slowly, wondering at the shaking, quavering note in Makoto's speech. "Yes. Up until a year and a half or so ago, when I found out that I was pregnant with Amako." She sighed, running one hand nervously over her thigh. "I knew that I would have to be strong for her. I couldn't do that if I were tearing myself down constantly."

Shaking her head, a frown took over Makoto's features. "I don't understand. How can hurting yourself help anything? If I feel angry, or sad, and then I… I don't know, scrape my knee or something, it only makes me feel worse."

A faint indulgent smile formed on Ami's lips as she nodded. "I know. But when you do something on purpose, it's different." She swiped at her cheeks roughly with the back of her hand. "There's all sorts of different ways to do it. Some people burn themselves, some people hit themselves with things. I always cut myself." She looked down, cheeks burning with shame.

"I did it for all sorts of reasons, most of which I couldn't identify at the time. If not for Amako, I probably wouldn't have thought about why I did it as much as I have. But I wanted to know, in case she ever… well, has need of that knowledge." She reached up and scratched at her arm nervously. "Sometimes it feels like… like if you hurt yourself physically, it's like you're proving that you hurt emotionally. It's validating. Sometimes, if you have an actual wound, you can treat it, where you can't just put a band-aid and some antibacterial ointment on the pain in your heart. And sometimes…"

Makoto couldn't make out what she said then. Her voice had dipped so low in tone, and so quiet, she couldn't hear her. "What?" She joined Ami on the floor and wrapped her arms tightly around the smaller woman, not considering that she'd been angry with her not too long ago. "Ami-chan, what is it?"

She couldn't speak. Somehow, hearing Makoto call her 'Ami-chan' again brought it back. Somehow, having Makoto's arms around her made her feel safe and incredibly vulnerable at the same time. She tried to force the words out from where they'd lodged in her throat. They came out in a hoarse whisper, echoing in her head. "Sometimes you feel like you just deserve to be in pain."

* * *

Yeah, yeah, I know. Stupid cliffhangers, ne? Well, this is the end of my prewritten chapters, so the next few might take a little while to get up. I hope I don't lose any readers over what I've done to these two... XD


	7. Realizations

Just a warning - there's some graphic descriptions in here, and a little cursing. So don't read it if you can't handle it. This is NOT a light and fluffy chapter. Well, duh. It's just one phrase, but it's a nasty one. So please, do NOT read this chapter if you're under... oh, we'll call it fourteen, fifteen?

Oh, yeah. I don't own Sailor Moon. If you haven't figured that out by now, get out of my story.

* * *

Makoto released Ami, pulling herself away. A tense, tearful expression grew on Ami's face as she watched the taller woman, always so self-assured, draw herself into a tight ball. She choked back a sob, shaking her head. Slowly, Ami forced herself to rise to her feet.

Muttering a broken, hoarse apology, she ran for the door. Eyes squeezed shut, Ami half expected to run into something, trip and fall, or even simply bolt straight into the wall. She stopped short, however, when she felt a hand on her wrist. Nervously, she pried her eyes open and looked up at the taller woman, fear and regret written all over her face.

"You think you can do that to me, Ami?" Makoto shook her head. "You get to come in here, and cry, and make me feel for you again, and not even give me a chance to tell you what I went through? How much you hurt me? You think that's fair?"

With a gentle jerk, Makoto pulled Ami back over to the couch and sat her down. "No way, Ami." Her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "Do you have any idea? You shattered me that day. That's why I left – I couldn't bear to see you and know that you hurt and not be able to do anything about it. I couldn't bear to watch you fall in love with someone else."

She bit her lip. What on earth was she doing? Was she really going to spill everything out, her years of resentment, self-hatred? Her bitterness lodged in her throat that day, like some noxious pill of reality she'd been forced to swallow and had never quite gone down.

"I was raped, Ami. Not a year after I left." Apparently she was. "I was lucky. I got away without any diseases, and no serious injuries, except one." She looked away, unable to bear the curious sort of melancholy in Ami's eyes. "You know how much I always wanted children." She squeezed her eyes shut at the gasp of surprise that burst from the other woman. She could almost picture Ami's small, delicate hand lifting to her mouth, her bright cerulean eyes widening in shock and something akin to despair – on Makoto's behalf, of course. "Yeah. Too much scarring. I can get pregnant, but it's pretty much a guarantee I'll miscarry after three or four months."

Ami's head spun. "But, Makoto-san… you can fight off anyone! How could…"

"It's really not that hard to understand." Hard green eyes fixed on Ami's face, making her recoil. "I was so trapped in guilt and loneliness that I didn't see them coming. No matter how strong I am, there's only so much that one sixteen year old girl can do against ten guys that have the advantage of surprise."

Ten? There had been ten of them? That explained the scarring, Ami thought. But how much scarring had there been to Makoto herself? Ami felt the couch suddenly disappear from under her; she was freefalling. Ten. It would have completely destroyed a lesser woman. Ami felt her admiration for Makoto grow as she fought to swallow the swelling lump in her throat. And she'd still managed to do so much of herself?

A strange thought inserted itself in Ami's mind. _I wonder if she's smiled, even once, since that day…_

Her patrons, her employees, anyone she'd let reasonably close to her since would have said yes, of course, she smiles almost every day. Any of her friends from school, had they seen her throughout that time, would have scoffed at them.

"M-Mako… I'm so sorry."

Makoto stood up abruptly, knocking Ami, who had been leaning towards her slightly, back a little ways. "It's not your fault, Ami. You didn't do it. You didn't tell those guys to fuck me until I bled, did you? You didn't… didn't tell them to…" Her hands, clenched into fists at her sides, relaxed slightly. "Didn't… tell them to… beat me and…" Her strained voice cut off in a faint, high wail.

Ami sat there, unsure. Should she leave Makoto alone? Should she offer comfort? She sat there, unsure. Her thumbs ran circles around each other on the racetrack of her grasped hands, words and scenarios flashing through her head so quickly she could barely read them. Finally, she settled on an action.

Standing, Ami placed one hand on Makoto's shoulder. "Oh, Mako-chan…" She felt tears well up in her eyes again, more powerful than before, for these were tears for someone she loved – whether Makoto knew it or not.

Lifting her hand, Makoto made as if to brush Ami's hand off her. She paused mid-motion, however, and simply rested her hand on top of the other woman's, allowing herself to revel, momentarily, in the contact. What was it about Ami that struck her so?

Abruptly, Makoto turned. "I'm sorry, Ami-chan. I… I can't do this right now." She dropped her gaze, shaking her head weakly. "I want… I want you back in my life. But I don't know how you'll fit, or how I'll fit in yours." She sighed. "I just need to think."

Nodding slowly, but inwardly rejoicing, Ami gave a gentle smile. "Of course. You have my phone number – call me. Sometime. Whenever." Before Makoto could say another word, Ami turned, grabbed her coat, and left the apartment.

* * *

Ami leant against the wall, a faint smile on her lips. Makoto hadn't given her much to work with, but it was something. Some aspect of Ami still held some sort of a draw for Makoto. She wasn't certain what it meant, but it was something.

Of course, Ami hadn't expected either of them to break down that way. Makoto had been through so much… she couldn't imagine having gone through that herself, and still be standing. Not just standing, but doing so well. She tugged her cell phone out of her pocket, smiling and flicking her finger at the little Sailor Jupiter dangling from the antenna – always her favourite character, even though most of… well, everyone, mocked her for watching cartoons.

With a determined grin, she dialed Usagi's number.

"Hngaaaaarrrr…gh." Usagi did produce some of the strangest noises when she first awoke. She rolled over and lifted the phone from it's cradle. "Hmmghm?" She attempted to mumble something into the phone.

Ami's voice on the other end sounded bright and happy. "Usagi-chan! I'm sorry to call you so late, but I figured you'd be up for Chibi-usa's feeding soon anyway."

Casting a quick glance over at her sleeping husband, Usagi slipped out of bed and into her slippers, padding her way toward the kitchen. "Oh, yeah. I suppose I would. So what's up? You're usually reasonable-hour-of-the-night girl."

Usagi could almost see Ami's face glow, her smile wide enough that it was almost creepy. "I talked to Mako-chan. I found out where she was awhile ago, but… I wanted to talk to her first, before I told you guys." Usagi smiled, nodding along despite knowing that Ami couldn't see it. "I just needed to make sure. Well, we met for coffee some time ago, and we just talked again. I told her… I told her what I went through." A long pause. "Oh, Usagi, she's been through so much! I don't suppose I should tell you, that's up to her if she wants to… but I can't believe how much pain she went through. And she's still standing. Usagi, she's got her own restaurant and everything!"

An indulgent smile formed on Usagi's lips. Oh yeah – Ami had it bad, even still.

* * *

Makoto flopped back on her couch with a tired sigh. Why on earth had she done that? She sighed, looking at the clock. She had the inexplicable urge to call Rei. Whenever Makoto had done something foolish, exposed her feelings, she had talked to Rei about it. The miko had always helped her feel less idiotic.

She wondered if the Hikawa shrine was even still there. She closed her eyes, smiling to recall the small study room, Usagi snoring away on the floor as Rei hovered over her, manga in her hand lifted, ready to bring the heavy comic down on the sleeping girl's head. Minako laughing, rolling around and unable to take her eyes off the enraged shrine girl, and through it all, Ami sitting there, just shaking her head. Probably wondering why she even bothered with the likes of them.

Her fantasy of memory became a little less pleasant then. Why had Ami ever bothered? When they never appreciated the genius' efforts, when they'd barely even tried? Ami could have spent her days with people like her, who could have had intelligent discussions with her, rather than meaningless discourse on this mangaka versus that.

She sighed and shook her head. Ami always thought of others, of course. No doubt she was an excellent doctor because of that. Makoto glanced at the coffee table and the keys on top of it. After a moment, she grabbed them and stood. Slipping into her shoes, she stepped quickly outside, locked the door, and headed down to her car.

Ami sighed relief as she peered around the corner as Makoto drove off.

* * *

So? Reviews? I love everyone who reviewed last chapter, and hey, I got this done faster than I thought. I've also got the next chapter written, and I'll probably post that one in a few days.

And just because he's been so great about reviewing every chapter, I'd like to toss a shout out to Rahu Roux, who gives the most creative reviews I've ever read, and has been one of my most supportive readers. Ever.


	8. Entropy

**Author's Note**: I received a bit of feedback from one person that mentioned she thought the story was progressing a little too quickly. As I didn't have the option of replying, I'd like to say this here: I can understand how you may draw that conclusion, but I disagree. These are two women who are and always have been in love; they just needed to figure that out. I'm not trying to make light of their situation; one only has to read past chapters to realize that. They're both aware that they have stuff to work through.

Oh. Yeah. **I don't own this**. Neither do I own Buffy: the Vampire Slayer, which I stole a few lines from for this chapter. I've always loved that particular Willow/Tara scene, and thought the words were stunningly appropriate here.

* * *

One eye opened. It took a moment, but the other opened, too. There it was – the distinctive sound of steps on the wooden verandah outside her personal apartments. Well, what had been her personal apartments. Rei shared them, now, with Minako, the girl she called her wife despite the lack of ceremony or tax benefits. They didn't need it, and neither felt that that was the point at all.

Rei lifted herself roughly out of bed, taking care to pull the blankets up over Minako's exposed and goosebumpy shoulder. She smiled, watching the blonde nuzzle down into the sheets, murmuring something about corn.

Quickly throwing on her robes, Rei slid open her door and stepped outside. Whomever it was that had been pacing was gone. No, wait – there was someone at the far end, merely a silhouette. Looked female, but with an unusual height for a woman. Rei stifled a laugh – perhaps it was another corporate cross-dresser. She'd had a disturbingly high number of them come to her for something akin to counseling, but usually not so late at night.

Then the figure turned. Despite the dim light, Rei could clearly make out familiar features and too-shiny green eyes. Makoto was standing there, crying. A faint smile formed on the miko's lips, and, unspeaking, she merely held her arms out wide.

With a choked sob, Makoto ran forwards, plunging herself into her old friend's embrace. Both fell awkwardly to the deck, Makoto leaning against Rei's chest. Despite the fact that she could feel the front of her robe becoming quickly drenched, Rei held tightly onto Makoto. Together, the two girls rocked back and forth, giving and seeking comfort.

"R-Rei-chan…" Makoto sobbed, trying to speak through the curtain of tears that fell before her eyes.

Rei smiled softly, rubbing Makoto's back. "It's okay, Mako-chan."

"I-I love her, Rei-chan." Makoto looked up into clear violet-gray eyes. As always, she was shocked by the depth of love and wisdom that was somehow hidden, and yet patently obvious in Rei's eyes. "I don't know… I don't know how to tell her. I don't know if she'll even want me anymore." Makoto shook her head violently. "I'm afraid she'll think I just want her because she has a daughter, or because I'm obsessed with the girl I knew."

Rei lifted Makoto's face, staring into torn, grief-shocked emerald eyes. "Mako-chan. Just tell her. We don't know what you went through when you were away, just as you don't know what we went through when we found out you were gone. But there's time for us to catch up with each other." She smiled broadly, slipping a bit of paper into Makoto's hand. "Ami's at home right now. She's sitting awake, watching Amako sleep. Go. Talk to her."

There was a moment, just a moment, where nothing happened. Rei's fingers remained tucked under Makoto's chin, their eyes locked. Then, it happened. With a sharp nod, Makoto stood and, with a pace somewhere between a fast walk and a slow run, headed to her car.

Rei sat there a moment longer, fingers running over the wetness on her chest. A bright smile was painted on her lips as she watched Makoto's head bob its way out of her line of vision as she hurried down the stairs.

Behind her, the sliding door opened, revealing a sheet-clad Minako. "Rei-koi, what's going on? Are you okay?"

Standing, Rei turned and nodded, her smile fixed to her lips. "I'm wonderful, Minako. Everything is coming together." She reached out and grasped her wife's hand, following her inside. "Come on, I'll fill you in."

* * *

Makoto sighed again, hopping from foot to foot. She glanced down at the bit of paper in her hand and back up at the shiny gold numbers by the door. She was at the right place, but it was hard to believe that Ami lived here. Somehow, she'd expected to find some place akin to a mansion, but it was quite a modest little house.

She lifted her finger and pressed the tip into the doorbell button, hearing the faint echo of a dull ringing sound. She waited, one hand grasped around her upper arm, biting her lip nervously. The door swung open.

"Mako-chan? What are you doing here?" Ami sounded shocked, but not at all displeased to find her there.

Makoto stepped inside the house, her movements slow and tired. "Things fall apart. They fall apart so hard."

Closing the door quietly, Ami turned to face the woman who was suddenly here, speaking cryptically and looking for all the world like she hadn't slept in two weeks. "Mako-chan?"

"You can't ever put them back the way they were." She shook her head gently, green eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Her body was somehow loose and tense at the same time, something in her demeanor worrying Ami. "Are you okay?" She took a half step towards Makoto, reaching towards her tentatively. She pulled her hand away when she spoke again.

"I'm sorry, it's just… you know, it takes time. You can't just... have coffee and expect…" She stepped away from Ami, but turned to face her, her expression locked with sadness.

Biting her lip, Ami stepped back and nodded. "I know."

"There's just so much to work through." She sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Trust has to be built again, on both sides." Her hand waved in the air as she spoke. "You have to learn if… if we're even the same people we were. If you can fit in each other's lives. It's a long and important process, and…" Makoto trailed off, looking at Ami in a dejected, vulnerable way that made the woman's heart cry out. "And can we just skip it? Can… can you just be kissing me now?"

Shock tore its way through Ami, leaving utter confusion in its wake. Was Makoto serious? Something in her expression convinced Ami. That sort of exposed vulnerability wasn't something that could be faked easily, and Makoto was no actor. In two steps, she was pressed against Makoto, arms draped over her shoulders and around her neck, pulling her close.

Their lips met. Ami thought her skull would shatter from the sheer force of the pressure building from the intensity of their kiss. With a smile, little more than a lifting of the corners of her mouth, Ami felt Makoto's tongue battle her own for dominance. Ami acquiesced, enjoying the feel of Makoto's explorations.

They pulled away, breathless, eyes watering. Ami dove into Makoto's arms, wrapping her own tightly around the taller woman. "Oh, God, I've missed you so much, Mako-chan." She pressed her cheek against Makoto's breast, loving the soft, comforting fullness.

Makoto bent slightly to kiss the top of Ami's head. "Thank you, Ami-chan. I'm sorry I ran off the way I did, I shouldn't have. And I'm sorry you had to hack into government systems to find me." She laughed softly. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize what was right in front of me – even when we were so far apart."

"Makoto?"

She looked down into blue eyes, smiling softly. "Yes?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Oh yeah, that's right. It's not a cliffhanger this time! Whoo! Of course, it's pretty short... but I've got all but the last chapter now written. I'll be posting the next chapter probably within two or three days. Reviews are loved!

In reference to the chapter title:** Entropy: **_a measure of the loss of information in a transmitted signal or message_. There are other definitions as well, obviously, but there's the pertinent one. Uh... it's also the title of the episode of BtVS that I stole the lines from . 


	9. I Can't Think of a Chapter Title

I don't own Sailor Moon. Blah.

* * *

Makoto sighed, not without content, but certainly with a hint of worry. She lay beside Ami, body shrouded in rich blue silken sheets. One of her arms was tucked under her head. The other refused to leave it's place around Ami's shoulders.

Things had gone by in a rush after their kiss. It seemed to occur suddenly, without thinking; their clothes almost seemed to have dematerialized off their bodies. Not that Makoto hadn't enjoyed it, she most certainly had, and she imagined that Ami had too. However, it wasn't, perhaps, quite how she would have done it if she'd taken the time to cool down and think about it.

After all, the last thing she wanted Ami to think was that she was in it for sex, or still in love with the 'old' Ami. Or worse yet, because of Ami's daughter, the one that apparently looked so like her. Briefly, Makoto allowed herself to wonder what it would be like, living with Ami here, in this house, raising Amako together.

She had an image of the first bully that picked on her, and the veritable army that would come to little Amako's rescue. Headed, of course, by her mothers. The first fight that Amako got into, defending some other kid from that same bully, and Ami and Makoto marching down to the school to demand that, if Amako were suspended, then the bully who started it absolutely must be as well, and his parents talked to.

Suddenly she saw Amako at fifteen, auburn-haired and bespectacled, walking up to some faceless person and, with a blush that reminded Makoto of Ami, stuttering out a whispered confession of attraction before bolting. Amako's graduation dance, her hair pulled up in a cascade of curls and wearing a stunning, deep red and sparkling dress. Amako's first breakup. Amako's first driving lesson. Amako's first run-in with the police. Amako's first everything.

Makoto growled, grabbing the pillow from under her head and tossing it over her face. She glanced over at Ami, shifting the pillow to look at her new lover's sleeping face.

Only, Ami wasn't sleeping anymore. Makoto smiled contritely at the deep blue eyes gazing at her in mildly concerned confusion. "Mako? Is something wrong?"

She sighed again, shaking her head. "Just thinking too much, I suppose. I've become to much of a headcase." She laughed quietly at herself before taking on a somber expression. "Ami… I don't want you to think that I only want to be with you because of Amako. I know that I can't have kids, and I've always wanted them, but I don't want you to believe that…"

A slender finger pressed against her lips to silence her. "Mako, I know." Ami smiled softly. "I don't believe that you would do something like that. I don't think you'd be able to. It's not in you, even now." She pulled her finger away and snuggled closer, pressing their lips together momentarily. "I think Amako will like you, Mako. I want you two to get along." She smiled broadly. "Because I don't plan on letting you go now."

Rei nodded at Minako, smiling brightly. "So, I think everything's going to be okay. I think it's going to work out." She'd just finished explaining what she knew of the story behind Ami and Makoto. "I mean, you and I both know they're meant for each other. It just took them a long time to figure it out."

Minako nodded, grinning, and leant into Rei, pressing her cheek against the miko's chest. "Yes… I'm so glad. I do wonder what Makoto's been through, though. I know it can't have been easy for her, any more than it was easy for Ami." Rei began running her fingers through Minako's hair, loving the feel of the soft blonde locks as they drifted over her skin.

They sat for a moment, curled together, smiling with a combined joy for themselves and their friends.

Makoto squeezed her eyes shut. It didn't help. She threw the pillow at the window. That didn't help either. Turning away from the irritating brightness that poured into her bedroom, she began to pry open her eyelids, forcing herself into wakefulness.

She found herself facing a wall. Strange; she should be facing most of her bedroom. She rolled over and her eyes widened. Who on earth was lying next to her? After momentary confusion, the previous night came flooding into her consciousness, leaving her with a happy, contented glow. That explained the blue hair.

One hand lifted just off the blanket and reached up, fingers toying with the locks, still short, but longer than Makoto's hands recalled. Today, she would meet Amako, the girl whom, apparently, looked so like her. Today she would see Rei, Minako, and Usagi, old friends she hadn't seen in fifteen years. And tonight, she was taking Ami out for dinner at a nice restaurant. She smiled and lay back down, for once grateful that her hair flopped into her eyes – it blocked some of the light pouring in.

There were plans to make. Perhaps Rei could babysit Amako? She wondered how Ami would feel about that. After all, the girl was her daughter. Makoto knew, however, that regardless of how long she'd been out of contact, Rei was a person you could trust a small child with. Just about any small child, she imagined. After all, Rei had the patience to put up with Usagi for, what, sixteen, seventeen years now?

She already knew where she wanted to take Ami. Some place they could dance – just like they had fifteen years ago, the night they had realized they liked each other. Perhaps a slower song would be in order, however. Mentally, Makoto ran through what songs she knew, and smiled broadly when her active mind lighted on the one that would be just about perfect. It wasn't a well known one; it had been written by a friend of hers for her lover. Makoto was one of the lucky few who had heard it.

Of course, she wouldn't use it without permission. Naturally; she'd have to get the writer to play and sing it for her. It wasn't recorded anywhere.

Casting a glance at the bedside clock, Makoto heaved herself out of Ami's bed and hurried over to the phone.

Nervousness pervaded her entire being. Shuffling from foot to foot, Makoto stared at the door in front of her, half-open. She could make out a white, wooden structure just inside the dimly lit room, and a faint burbling sort of sound.

Laughing, Ami pushed her forwards and into the baby's room. "Makoto, she'll love you. I promise."

Swallowing convulsively, Makoto stepped shyly forwards and leant over the crib. Immediately, a broad grin spread over her face, pink rising in her cheeks as she stared down at the little auburn-haired, blue-eyed girl that laughed up at her, waving her arms in the air to be picked up.

"Mama! Mama!" Amako brought her arms down to clap her hands together, smiling and happy. Tears welled in Makoto's eyes as she gazed down at the little girl, her hands itching to pick her up and hold her close.

Another voice, nearly identical to Amako's save for the air of maturity that filled it, broke into her. "Go on, Mako. Pick her up." For a moment, Makoto was worried that Ami would be jealous. They'd just met, and already her daughter was calling Makoto "Mama". But, perhaps she called every female figure that. Gently, she reached down and eased her hands around the small girl's delicate form, lifting her from the small crib and immediately pressing her into her chest.

Ami straightened and stepped forwards, resting one hand on Makoto's shoulder. "I told you she'd love you."

Grinning and clapping her hands together, Amako gave another bubbly, happy laugh. She pointed at Ami. "Mama!" She pointed at Makoto. "Mama!" She reached up one chubby fist and grabbed a handful of Makoto's hair. Promptly, she stuck it in her mouth. "Mmm!" Her third cry of 'mama!' was muffled by the now damp locks clinging to her lips.

A comfortable sort of weight settled over Makoto. She felt it, like a warm cloak wrapped around her shoulders, in the feel of the child in her arms, in the sensation of Ami's fingers tracing circles on her upper arm. She turned and looked at Ami, an incredulous look of joy on her face.

Up on her toes so she could whisper into Makoto's ear, Ami smiled. "I love you, Mako-chan."

Well, this was becoming a rather familiar sensation. Makoto stood at the sliding door that led to Rei's personal apartments within the shrine. Rei, Usagi, and Minako were all inside, waiting for herself and Ami to come in. Somehow, she felt that this would be just a tad more awkward than meeting Amako earlier.

The girl currently sat, half asleep and grinning contentedly, in Ami's arms. "Go on, Makoto. They're not going to interrogate you, I promise." Playfully, Ami nudged Makoto's shoulder with her own. "But it'll definitely be awkward if we stand here for twenty minutes and they come out to see what's wrong."

Grimly determined, Makoto nodded and lifted her hand to press into the door, knocking against the wooden frame for permission to enter.

"Come in!" The voice was entirely too blonde not to belong to Usagi, even if it was filled with a new sort of grace and maturity. For a moment, Makoto felt a keen pang of regret, having missed so much of her friends' lives.

Then she stepped inside. The pang changed quality, but drove deeper when she saw not three but four faces, welcoming her inside. Well, three of them welcoming. The fourth was staring at the ceiling in confusion. Makoto's eyes widened. Who had had a child? She stepped inside and knelt on the nearest available pillow, eyes fixed on the floor.

She shot a grateful smile out of the corner of her mouth when she felt, rather than saw, Ami kneel beside her and place one reassuring hand on her knee. "Um… hey, guys."

The next thing she knew, she was on her back. Makoto's immediate reaction was to fight, until she realized her vision was blocked by a length of blonde hair, and the weight on her was an exuberant Usagi.

"We missed you so much, Mako-chan! You can't run off like that again, you can't, you can't, you can't!" Usagi's head pressed into Makoto's shoulder.

Gently, Makoto pushed Usagi off of her. "I'm not going anywhere, Usa-chan." She sat up, the blonde sitting, puppylike, in front of her. She looked around at the assembled faces with a resigned sigh. "I'm sorry, guys. I don't really know what else to say… except that it means a lot, seeing you all here. Ready, in spite of everything, to give me another chance." She looked over at the woman seated beside her and received a reassuring smile and a subtle nod.

Rei and Minako, seated curled around each other, nodded at her. "Mako-chan," Rei began, "we've always been ready for you to come back. I think we understand you a little better than you give us credit for." She smiled softly. "Besides, there's someone else that you should meet."

A broad smile spread over Makoto's face as she gazed at the new member of the group. "And who is this?"

"My daughter." She looked over at Usagi, who had moved to sit beside the girl's carrier with a glowing expression of maternal pride. "My daughter, Usagi. We call her Chibiusa."

* * *

Yeah, this is all there is for the 'friends' bit. I was uninspired for this chapter. Well, except by the old Spice Girls song "wannabe", so blame any lameness on them . 


	10. One More Kiss

No, I don't own Sailor Moon. I'd say I do, to see if they could actually sue me, but they'd probably take my story down. And that'd suck..

All right guys: here it is. The final chapter.

* * *

"Makoto, where on earth are we going?" The brunette was dragging a blindfolded Ami along by her hand. Thus far, everything had gone perfectly. Rei was watching Amako – Ami herself had asked, for the purpose of having "private time". Ami really was adorable when she blushed.

They had gone to dinner in a nice restaurant. Ami wore a mid thigh length blue dress with silver-shot black running over it, like someone wrapped her in ribbons that sparkled and shone. Her short hair was held back by a small piece of plastic and a pin with a rose decal. The little sheer cap sleeves on the dress were perfect; Makoto could see the single freckle on her left shoulder. It hadn't been there before.

"Don't worry, Ami, you're fine." The voice that lighted on Ami's ears was reassuring, light and joyful. Though she couldn't see, Ami could picture the smile on Makoto's lips. She looked stunning, Ami knew. She'd worn a calf-length, deep brown wrap skirt and a bell-sleeved, rich forest green V-neck blouse. Ami had decided on the spot that she adored the shirt; it showed off Makoto's collarbones beautifully. The whole thing was completed by calf high black vinyl boots. Somehow, despite the fact that you couldn't see a bit of skin on Makoto's legs, Ami couldn't tear her eyes off them.

At least, until they sat down – at which point, she couldn't lift her eyes from Makoto's neck. After dinner, she'd been surprised to feel someone come up behind her and tie a piece of black cloth over her eyes. She'd been moderately comforted by the fact that Makoto was there, and an assailant probably wouldn't be giggling.

They'd gotten some talking done over dinner. Though part of both of them wanted to, they weren't going to move quickly. Ami would remain living in Tokyo, and Makoto in her little suburb, and they'd see each other on weekends and days off.

_"I don't want you to think that we don't have stuff to work through, or that I don't realize that we've got stuff to work through. I just… want to actually work through it." Makoto laughed tiredly. "I regret leaving all those years ago. But you really hurt me – and that's something I still need to get over." She smiled then, looking up at Ami. "I'd like to do it with your help."_

Ami reached out, placing a hand on top of one of Makoto's. "You think I don't regret hurting you? Putting myself through everything I did?" She grinned, her tongue just poking out between her teeth. "Fun as some of it was, I'd have to do it far differently, had I wised up earlier." She shook her head. "I'd have been able to have that fun with you." Ami squeezed Makoto's hand, and withdrew. "It's not going to be easy. But we'll figure it out."

Ami felt herself stop moving. She'd gently collided with something warm, soft, and larger than her. "M-Mako…?"

"Right here." Ami felt arms snake around her, holding her close. One hand reached up, and the darkness fell away from her eyes, allowing her to look at where they were. They stood in the middle of the park they'd frequented as girls. She looked up at Makoto, but the taller girl was looking off somewhere else.

She nodded. Ami followed Makoto's gaze, smiling when she saw two people about their age, one with wavy teal hair, the other taller, with short sandy blonde locks. The blonde seated herself at a small piano that had been brought in, and the other picked up a violin from on top of the larger instrument. After flashing joint smiles, and a thumbs-up from the blonde, the two began to play.

Gently, Ami felt herself begin to sway back and forth, led by Makoto through a slow piece.

And then, the teal haired young woman began to sing.

"Lying here with you

Listening to the rain

Smiling just to see

A smile upon your face,"

Ami's eyes widened as she looked up at Makoto. This was a song she hadn't heard before, and the radio was always on at the hospital. She imagined she'd heard just about every song out there, and whether she paid particular attention or not, she always remembered what she heard.

"These are the moments

I thank God that I'm alive

These are the moments

I remember all my life

I've found all I've waited for

And I could not ask for more,"

Closing her eyes, Ami leant against Makoto's chest, feeling through their clothing the press of her breasts and the gentle sway of her hips. Makoto's cheek rested against the top of Ami's head, making the smaller woman feel enveloped in warmth. She smiled, pressing herself closer.

"Looking in your eyes

Seeing all I need

Everything you are

Is everything to me,"

A contented smile moved it's way slowly over Makoto's face, brightening her features. Green eyes closed, swaying gently with the music few had ever heard. She vowed to be eternally grateful to her friends; they'd provided her with this perfect moment. Perhaps it wouldn't last, perhaps soon reality would rush back, reminding her that Ami wasn't hers yet, and they had a long way to go…

But for now, she had this moment. This single, perfect moment. How could she not be grateful?

"These are the moments

I know heaven must exist

These are the moments

I know all I need is this

I've found all I've waited for

And I could not ask for more,"

And, so, they danced. In the middle of a park; there were no blooming cherry trees, and it wasn't a full moon. There was no nearby stream with a little wooden bridge over it, there was just them, holding each other and swaying to the music that flowed out from the piano and violin just a few feet away.

"I could not ask for more than this time together

I could not ask for more than this time with you

Every prayer has been answered

Every dream has come true

"Right here in this moment

Is right where I'm meant to be

Here with you, here with me,"

Ami eased away from Makoto gently to look up into her face. She couldn't see anything beyond the intense emerald green eyes flooded with longing, love, and not a little uncertainty. Ami didn't suppose she could blame Makoto for that, but there were few things she was sure of, and one of them was how very much she was not going to let Makoto go again.

"These are the moments

I thank God that I'm alive

These are the moments

I remember all my life

I've found all I've waited for

And I could not ask for more

"I could not ask for more than this time together

I could not ask for more than this time with you

And every prayer has been answered

Every dream has come true

"Right here in this moment

Is right where I'm meant to be

Here with you, here with me,"

Their embrace tightened again, and Makoto reveled in the feel of holding the smaller woman in her arms again. Perhaps their problems were too huge to overcome, but somehow, Makoto couldn't really believe that. Their friends were willing to accept her again, Amako seemed to love her, and here was Ami, in her arms, gently swaying to the music. It didn't matter that there were no blooming cherry trees, or that the moon wasn't full. She had Ami.

"No, I could not ask for more than this love you give me

'Cause it's all I've waited for

And I could not ask for more

No, yeah, no, I could not ask for more."

The final strains of the song wound away as rain began to fall. Quickly, Haruka and Michiru packed up the violin and threw a tarp over the piano, not wanting them to be damaged. They smiled, walking a few feet away to make a phone call.

Makoto laughed. "We should get out of here before we get soaked." Tugging on Ami's hand, she began to walk away. She stopped when she felt the resistance that indicated Ami wasn't moving. "Ami?"

She stood there, looking at Makoto with a wistful sort of mischievous smile. "Makoto… I have something for you." She smiled and tugged on Makoto's hand, dragging her a few feet away to where her purse lay on the ground. Fishing around inside it, she pulled up a small velvet box. "I know they're not exactly right, but…" She smiled, holding out the small gift.

Curious, Makoto took the box and flipped it open. Tears welled in her eyes immediately, half emotion and half amusement. She lifted out one of the objects; a small, pink rose stud earring.

"They always looked so good on you. I don't know why you got rid of them." She smiled. The rain began to fall harder, and Ami spread out her arms, tilting her face upwards.

Unable to resist, Makoto reached out and grabbed one of Ami's outstretched arms. Pulling her close, she ran the back of her hand over the woman's damp cheek. Their lips connected in a gentle kiss that quickly intensified.

Ami pulled away, smiling, and wrapped her arms around Makoto's waist, resting her head against her chest. She'd always loved kissing in the rain.

** END **


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